Nobody's Home
by 8xSayAnythingx8
Summary: He's alone in the world. Broken inside. His best friends dead.. and he's the reason. StanXKyle


He ran through the snow, barefoot, not caring about the stinging sensation he felt. His feet smash into the concrete of the front steps to his house. The door slammed behind him, almost snagging his brown coat on the way but missing by centimeters. He screams for someone to hear him, although no one ever came. He was alone in this world. Or, atleast that's what he though ever since it happened.

That day changed everything. Can you imagine it? Seeing your best friend die. Hearing his final words and not being able to respond with the words he's been searching for all along, but never found them until it happened. "I love you." Those were the words. They haunt him. Every. Single. Day.

"Anyone! Answer me!" He screams out to no one. Nobody's home. Ever. Nobody to comfort him in his darkest of times. The only person that ever really cared for him. That really deeply cared for him. They were gone. He wasn't coming back.

"I can't stand to see you like this, you know that?" Kyle turned his head away from his concered friend.

"I don't need your opinion, Stan." He looked down at the ground, hands feeling around in his pocket and looking around Kyle's room, spotting the razor blade hidden under a towel, carrying the remains of blood he didn't get to cleaning before he entered the room.

"Why? Why resort to this Kyle?"

"No!"

He fell down hard on the ground, punching the floor as tears continued rolling down. And he layed there. Crying. Screaming. Wanting to know why, although he already knew. He just couldn't believe it. He wouldn't believe it. He refused. How could it be true? Kyle was always so happy. So full of life. And then...

"Kyle stop!"

He tried to yank the razor from his wrists, but he fought back. He felt his stomach turning as he saw the blood come from a cut in his wrist. The thing was it was in the middle of more red markings. Signs that this was not his first time. But it was the first time Stan knew.

He yanked it hard and it flew out of both of their hands unto the ground. Kyle reached for it, but Stan pulled him in place by his shoulders, searching for his eyes through the blurs in his.

"What are you doing?"

"Just leave me alone!"

"Kyle, whatever you're going through this isn't the answer!"

"You don't know anything!"

"Stop! Just stop! Why are you doing this to me! I didn't know! I didn't know I was doing that much damage to you!"

He gasped from the lack of tears, forcing the screams to come out as he fell against the wall, running his hands through his hair and tugging at it.

"You really wanna know why I do this?"

His voice was a whisper, barely making words. He doesn't answer. He just looks at him, waiting.

"It's you, Stan." The words hit him so hard. He caught himself on Kyle's dresser, avoiding the fall.

"W-What?" He took a long breath before repeating himself.

"You're the reason. Why can't you just say it? We both know it's true. But it's too late now."

He shook his head, knowing instantly what he meant, but thinking it wasn't true. It wasn't real. He was dreaming.

"No. That- that's not true. I wouldn't do this to you."

"Stan, look at me!" He looks him over. Red hair a mess, clothes not matching. And a trail of blood that lingered on his bed, leading to a picture of us. "It WAS you. It IS you."

"NO! Stop!" With that he ran out the room, not letting Kyle convince him, even though all the evidence was right there.

He couldn't find the strength to get up, so he crawled into his room. Collapsing on the bed, falling on something hard and cold, knowing it was now broken as it stabbed him. He turned over and saw a small peice of glass sticking out from his stomache. He pulled it out slowly, making him screech. Even though it wasn't that deep, it still left some blood. Another reminder of Kyle.

He took what he was laying on and stared at it, forming more tears that had come back. A picture of him and Kyle. The same picture he saw in Kyle's room. He looked at it closely one more time, tracing each crack with his fingers, then letting it fly across the room with a strong cry. His ears were banging. He felt dizzy. His heart was pounding. He felt it splitting even more, until it was dangling by a thread. He felt someone grasping him, calling his name, but it only made things worse.

"Stop! Please! I can't take it anymore!"

"Stan! Stan! It's me!" Still crying he turned to see Kenny, worry marked on his face. Suddenly he pulled Stan in. "It's okay, Stan."

"No! No it's not! Kyle killed himself 'cuz of me! And now he's trying to do the same with me!" He managed to say it, even though it was shaky and caused him to break down even more.

"Don't say that, Stan. Kyle wouldn't want you to be like this."

"He wants me to kill myself. I know it. And maybe I should. Maybe I should join him."

Kenny said nothing. He just kept holding on, letting Stan have time to think until he pulled Kenny off. He held onto his shoulders, in the same way he did with Kyle and stared at him, until he finally spoke.

"I miss him so much, Kenny."

" I know. " He nodded his head. "We all do. I don't know exactly how you're feeling, but we'll get through it, okay? I'm here for you." They hugged one more time, then Kenny took him to Kyle's grave.

He walked up to it, Kenny keeping his distance to let Stan speak his mind, but Stan only had one thing to say.

"I don't know if you're listening, but... I love you." He looked at all the memories surrounding the tombstone, and saw that same picture again. "I just wished I'd said it sooner. Maybe this wouldn't have happened. It wouldn't have. I'm sorry."

Then... he walked away. He visited his grave everyday, and I guess fate really did want them together. One year later, Stan was back with Kyle. Forever this time. And it seemed Kyle really was listening that day. 


End file.
